Coldwater Retrieval Agency
by madxcrow
Summary: It was tough to be both a mudblood and a blood traitor but Maeve was nothing if not multifaceted. Blaise was a pureblood darling with a needle-thin spine. He'd probably last through one excursion (that Slytherin pride would demand it) and quit the moment they returned. Blaise Zabini wouldn't last- she would make sure of it.
1. Stupid Charismatic Asshole

Maeve was pissed. She wanted to scream, hex something into next week. Maybe even cry a little. God-blessed-fucking-christ-on-a-fucking-popsicle-stick-damnit! How far did she have to run to get away from her past?

"Hi," His stupid face smiled like mingling and making small talk were not the nightmare-inducing event that they actually were. Stupid charismatic asshole. "Nice to meet you… Khloe, right?"

"Right." The woman in question flashed a pretty smile and took his outstretched hand. Both so confident in their conversation skills.

Maeve, on the other hand, pretended someone called her from the other side of the room. A pro at this particular maneuver, Maeve smiled warmly and waved at the wallpaper on the other side of the room and then tilted her head at the duo, like, "Oh, there's Robert a long lost friend whom I desperately need to talk to this very moment sooo…. toodles." and made her way towards that bit of wallpaper and further away from Blaise Zabini.

He was making his rounds, trying to schmooze his way into her coworker's good sides. Still such a Slytherin. Ugh. Maeve watched him breakaway from Khloe Stonepuddle and head towards her, from the corner of her eye. Had he already schmoozed all eleven of her coworkers? Damn it.

Cookies! She'd head towards the snack table and lose him in the throng of snacking folks. She was running out of wallpaper friends, eventually, he'd corner her and she'd have to talk to the pureblood bastard if the meeting didn't start soon.

Fuck.

She was halfway to the snack table when Coldwater finally called the meeting to order.

Gleefully, Maeve waited for Blaise to find a seat before she selected hers. Three behind and one to the left- closest to the only exit in the room. She'd disappear into the ether after the meeting.

And then just avoid him for the rest her time at Coldwater Retrievals Agency. Absolutely flawless plan. Right?

The sinking in her gut turned into full-on stomach cramps and cold sweats when the new hire was introduced to the room.

Despite the turmoil in mind, her face, as usual, was pleasantly blank of all emotion but the one emotion that wouldn't get her noticed or singled out- polite interest. Pleasant enough not to goad dislike but neutral enough not to be called upon to engage. It was an art form Maeve had cultivated early in life.

Blaise Zabini.

Shit. Shit. Fuck. Damn it!

This was not Hogwarts. She was not who she'd been then- at least confidence-wise. But looking at his stupid face transported her back ten years.

Damn it.

Past Maeve, pathetic Maeve, was not someone she wanted to be ever again.

Had Maeve been even remotely cool at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini would not be an issue. Hell, if she even would have been just invisible or just a plain old loser he still wouldn't be a problem.

But Maeve had been and still was everything she'd been at Hogwarts: a mudblood Hufflepuff blood traitor.

It was tough to be both a mudblood and a blood traitor but Maeve was nothing if not multifaceted. Getting sorted into Hufflepuff wouldn't have been such a big sin if she didn't hail from the house of Rowle. It had been a pure Slytherin legacy, generations upon generations sorted into the noble house of Slytherin.

Until Maeve had muddied the waters with her birth and subsequent surviving to the ripe old age of eleven.

The Hufflepuffs hadn't known how to treat a snake in the burrow- and not just any snake but a Rowle. The loudest and most vile of mudblood haters in the wizarding community. They largely ignored and avoided her- as most of the Hufflepuff house were half-bloods and muggleborns themselves. Maeve couldn't blame them. She would have steered clear as well.

The Slytherins shared no such confusion as to what to do with her. The pureblood community was well aware of her status in the Rowle household, disinherited and disdained, and were not at all threatened by the weight of her surname. They had no compunctions about torturing her existence.

Maeve knew now in her adult life that she should be forgiving and understanding- little pitchers have big ears and all that. She knew they'd just been ignorant kids filled with a bunch of lies from day one and brainwashed into believing in the bullshit superiority of purebloods. But it was one thing to think and an entirely other thing to practice.

Blaise Zabini had been a Slytherin but he'd been one of those elite few who were all at once: super rich, pure-blooded (an official twenty-eight member), and handsome to boot. Which put him in a league above all the rest- even the loftiest of Slytherins couldn't touch him. He'd never been an ass to her. But Maeve figured it was mostly due to the vastly different circles they'd traveled.

The problem was that if he remembered her at all it would be as the mudblood Hufflepuff blood traitor and not the Rowle Hufflepuff imposter. A crucial distinction if she was expected to uphold her current reputation.

It was better to be feared than scorned. Maeve had learned that particular lesson well and made an effort to implement it in her everyday life. Maeve had spent years cultivating her badass-don't-fucking-mess-with-me reputation and Zabini could ruin everything.

At Coldwater Retrievals she was feared.

Not because of her surname or blood status but because she had built that reputation. Maeve Wren Rowle was the elitest of the elite. Where Zabini had been the cream of the crop at Hogwarts- Maeve Wren Rowle was a god amongst men when it came to her job. She was the best of the best and everyone knew it.

"Alright, thank you all so much for your hard work. Dismissed!" Coldwater clapped his hands and knocked Maeve back into the present. Damnit, she should have been out the door already. Maeve tried to melt into the small crown and followed them out.

"Rowle- stay behind for a second, please." Coldwater's voice rang above the crowd, so loud in fact, that she wouldn't be able to pretend she didn't hear him. He knew her too well, damn it.

Pleasantly neutral expression in place, Maeve turned back around and tried not to look like the pathetic girl she'd been in her teens.

Zabini was a former classmate, a pureblood, and represented everything that her father had desperately wanted her to be. He'd been popular and well-liked and hadn't tormented Maeve even once in their long history.

He probably- hopefully- please sweet baby Jesus- didn't even know she existed.

"Blaise this is Maeve Rowle." Coldwater gestured to her and then back at Zabini. "Maeve this is Blaise Zabini."

Blaise shook her hand and Maeve watched as recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Maeve." He smiled and tilted his head, ever so slightly to the side, as if trying to place her face. Maeve wasn't going to help out on that bit. She smiled politely in return and nodded.

Oh goddamnit. Coldwater was going to make Zabini her partner. Jesus, Merlin, and Joseph. How in the fuck was she going to achieve her foolproof plan of avoiding him for the rest of all eternity if he was going to be her partner?

Maybe she was reading this wrong? Maybe Coldwater just wanted to introduce his best Retrieval Specialist for whatever reason. Maybe she was being too dramatic and reading too much into things.

"Maeve is our top Retrieval Specialist- best in the country actually. Blaise was an excellent Auror and I was lucky enough to poach him from the Ministry. Maeve, Blaise will be your new partner."

God fucking damn it.

"Welcome aboard Zabini. Rowle here will show you the ropes. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask." He clapped the taller man on the shoulder and turned towards the exit. Coldwater paused and leaned closer to Maeve to talk in a lower tone. "Please, Maeve just… go easy on this one."

Maeve wanted to protest and tell the man that long list of ex-partners and their sudden departures from the agency were not her fault. All of her previous partners had either been lacking in backbone or brains. Or both. Her job was a dangerous one if you were not prepared for those challenges then you lost the bones in the left side of your body (as was the case with her most recent partner). But arguing never worked so Maeve held her tongue and mentally rolled her eyes.

"Sure, Jack." She kept her features placid and turned to stare down her shiny new partner.

Blaise was a pureblood darling with a needle-thin spine. He'd probably last through one excursion (that Slytherin pride would demand it) and quit the moment they returned. Blaise Zabini wouldn't last- she would make sure of it.


	2. Pride & Dignity Be Damned

**_Three Days Later_**

Blaise Zabini shifted his weight and was so instantly filled with rage at the sound of the wet squish in his shoes that he lost his composure. He'd been doing an admirable job at keeping it in check thus far- but the wet squish and the scent of charred wool pushed him, the king of iron control, over the edge.

"Rowle is an undisciplined, uncommunicative, suicidal witch who should not be allowed outside, let alone out in the field endangering her life and those around her." Blaise leaned forward and smacked his chest twice. "Endangering _my_ life."

"Zabini-" Coldwater motioned to the chair in front of his desk but Blaise was on a roll, there was no stopping now.

"We have been on one, as in one _singular_, retrieval missions together. Can you guess how many near-death experiences I have had?!" Blaise caught his breath and all but ignored the man in front of him.

"FIVE! _Five_ times my life was in real actual danger of not continuing! Can you guess how many times Rowle has tried to kill herself!? Seventeen! Seventeen times!" Zabini squished a three-step pace back and forth in front of Coldwater's desk. He was still coming off the adrenaline rush of his last near-death experience.

Fucking Rowle.

The sound of his soggy shoes spurred his rant on.

"Zabini, would you-"

"Do you have any idea how many times I have had to put her out? From being on fire! _ON FIRE!_ Flames _on her actual body_ and all she does is continue working! Wha- who does that?! Does the witch not know how to stop drop roll? Does she feel the fire? Is she so insane that she can not comprehend anything going on around her while she's working!?"

"Please, will you-"

"She needs to see a therapist and she needs to get on some kind of medication. I can not go back out in the field with her if she is going to continue with this suicidal behavior!" No sane wizard would.

"Alright then, I'll take this as you resigning from the agency." The calm reply cut through the red haze and Blaise was all too suddenly dumbstruck. What the hell had Coldwater said? Resigning?

"What?" Blaise stopped squishing back and forth and stared at the man.

"You are obviously unable to work with Ms. Rowle and I don't have any Retrieval Specialists in need of a partner at the moment. Why would I keep you on?"

While that was a square kick to the balls.

"I…" Speechless, pride hurting, Blaise didn't know how to respond. He dropped into the chair and rubbed at his throbbing face. He was sporting a shiny new black eye and currently missing a tooth- all because of Rowle.

Blaise Zabini had been going through something of a…. upheaval- wasn't the right word but all the other ones were too on the nose for his smarting pride preferences- in the past year. After the _incident,_ subsequent firing, and getting disinherited things had changed quickly.

Blaise had always had his pride. He'd been aloof and indifferent and disdainful of all and sundry. And why shouldn't he have been, he'd been the wealthiest, prettiest, purebloodiest asshole this side of the Atlantic.

Now that he actually had to worry about things like rent, bills, and living expenses- pride just wasn't a factor. He wasn't just broke. He was _in debt_. Serious fucking debt to some unsavory characters.

He needed this job. It paid too well to lose over something so trivial as mortal peril. Fuck it all.

"Look, Zabini, I would prefer to keep you on. You were an excellent Auror and you're proving to be an even better bodyguard. But if you cannot work with Rowle then I'll have no choice but to let you go." Coldwater leaned across the desk separating them and looked as serious as he'd ever seen him.

Pride and dignity be damned.

What ruled his now narrowing world was money. It always had, and in light of recent events, it seemed that it always would. Maeve Rowle was a raving lunatic bent on killing herself but she was the best of the best. Rowle brought in the highest value items and did so consistently. They were both granted a standard rate of pay but what made this job so enticing was the healthy commissions he made each artifact that they successfully brought back.

The second-rate Retrieval Specialists didn't even rate a second thought. If he kept at it and managed to stay alive, he'd be able to pay off his debts in a matter of years- maybe even months.

"No, I'm not resigning." Blaise swallowed his pride and anger and sighed. "I... I am just... complaining. And concerned for Rowle." Zabini sat up and made eye contact with the other man. "She really is suicidal. She needs help."

There was no other explanation for the sheer amount of crazy pouring out of that woman.

"Maeve Rowle is an emotionally stable retrieval specialist with an impressive track record and an amazing work ethic." Coldwater recited as if he'd said it many times before. "Her methods may be unconventional but you can't argue with the results."

"_Unconventional_?!" Blaise sputtered, almost rendered speechless once again.

"Look," Coldwater sighed and rubbed at his face. "Even if she were batshit insane- I'm not saying she is- but _if_ she were, I'd still keep her in the field. She is, frankly, too valuable to bench."

Blaise opened his mouth to protest, yell- _anything_ but nothing was coming out.

"I know she's got her issues but... who doesn't?" Coldwater sat forward and braced his arms on the desk. "You have been her longest standing bodyguard and the most… _intact _after a mission. I would hate to lose you Zabini. It's dangerous work and but it pays."

There was an opportunity here and he wouldn't be a Slytherin if he didn't take advantage of it.

"Yeah, it does pay but not enough for the shit I have to do." He folded his arms and made a show of looking dissatisfied. "You know she's fucking crazy- you all but said it just now. I dodged sudden death five times today! And on top of that I now have a black eye, cracked ribs, my robes are never going to be clean again and I'm down a tooth! You how painful that is going to be to regrow?"

"If you decide to stay on I will give you a twenty percent raise." Coldwater was trying very hard not to look desperate but Blaise could see it in the tension of his shoulders.

Now he was getting somewhere. Somehow the whole 'mortal peril' thing was becoming less of a concern. Maybe twenty percent less of a concern. Besides, he was dead if he stayed on with Rowle trying to kill him every three minutes and dead if he couldn't come up with the money fast enough.

Blaise was well aware of the horror stories surrounding Rowle. He'd been warned away from her within the first three days of his employment. He knew how much Coldwater needed him which meant he could probably wring just a wee bit more out of the man.

"Did I not tell you that I almost died five times and kept Rowle from dying more than that?" Blaise had to work at sounding outraged now. He didn't want to push it too far but he'd try his luck. "I literally put her out- _from being on fire_\- several times. I don't know if I even want to stay on just for the pay."

That much was true. He didn't _want_ to stay on but he had to.

"I understand." Coldwater nodded and glanced towards the door and then back towards Blaise as if considering something. "How about a twenty percent raise _and_ a bonus every time you bring Rowle back alive."

Blaise pretended to consider it for a long moment just to make Coldwater feel like he'd won in their negotiation before he sat forward and, reluctantly, nodded his head. "Deal."

Now all he had to do was not die, keep that bat-shit insane witch alive, and then maybe he wouldn't end up at the bottom of the river Thames sporting cement shoes.


	3. Untrustworthy Baristas & Bribes

"Green ale with a splash of lemon and a dollop of whipped cream is your drink right?" His dumb handsome head was tilted at the drink he'd put in her hand.

Maeve didn't know how to answer.

Yes, that was her drink.

Was she going to tell him that? Fuck no.

How the hell had he figured out where she went for coffee, to begin with? And then also get her drink order correct? Had he been following her? No- she would have spotted him. Maeve was too cautious and paranoid not to have spotted a tail.

Which meant he'd bribed people.

Huh. He _was_ supposed to be insanely rich.

Okay, so coffee shop people couldn't be trusted not to give out her order to random-ass strangers. Good to know. But why the hell would he go through the trouble? Especially when he was supposed to be quitting in a huff.

His pureblooded ass had been beyond furious when they'd returned from their last mission.

She had watched him stomp off and had expected never to see his dumb handsome face again.

"No it's not my drink," Maeve put the delicious fruity drink on her desk just to be contrary. "I don't like fruity drinks made by obviously untrustworthy baristas named Kevin." She'd have to find a whole new place to get her morning caffeinated kick in the ass.

Maeve didn't share information about herself. Ever. She disliked even having to share her first name with people. She hated for anyone to have anything they could lord over her. Even her coffee order seemed too personal. Which, she was sure, said too about the sheer amount of paranoia crammed in her skull- but still.

First, it was her coffee preference, then it was her home address, and then, suddenly, she'd be murdered and rotting in her own flower bed. Or worse, he'd think they were friends and he'd try to do friend-like things with her. Like brunch or book clubs. Sweet Merlin, she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

"He told me his name was Ke_van _and obviously lied about your drink." He looked charmingly disappointed. "I'll have to get my thirty quid back."

How did he do the charming thing with his face? It had to be something he practiced in the mirror. Maeve made a mental note of his eyebrow positioning and the way his eyes scrunched ever so slightly- she wanted to try the charming thing.

"Why are you paying Kevin thirty quid for my drink order?" Maeve moved to the other side of her desk. Effectively putting a barrier between them. The witch had thought she'd never have to see him again but now that he was standing in her office, she didn't know what to expect. He'd been furious that last time she'd seen him and Maeve doubted that his anger over their first and last retrieval mission had just up and gone away.

He looked relaxed and not in the least bit agitated. He wasn't squaring his stance or flaring his nostrils or clenching his fists- he was the picture of calm and collected. Confusing was what that was. Maeve had been around that particular mulberry bush too many times to trust that his calm facade wouldn't do a one-eighty in a blink.

"Well, mostly to bribe you." He sat on the edge of his desk and put his own coffee down. To free up his hands? Was he going to go for his wand?

"Bribe me?" Maeve was a quick draw but he'd been an Auror and she wasn't sure if she could beat him.

"Yeah," His hands moved as he spoke and the paranoid part of her, which made up about seventy-three percent of her anatomy, watched carefully for the wand to appear. "You don't seem to like me much Rowle. And since we are going to be working together… I just thought I'd try to… start off on the right foot. Again."

"Working together?" Was he insane? He _had_ hit his head pretty hard on that fire extinguisher. Maybe he was suffering from a concussion. "Look, Zabinin, I understand that Coldwater assigned you to my protection detail but I don't need you. I work alone."

She did everything alone. It was easier.

"Godrick's beard, Rowle, my ego can't take that kind of rejection." He clutched at his imaginary pearls and had the audacity to look both self-deprecating and ridiculously charming.

Maeve was upset to find that his charm was working on her enough that she felt compelled to soften the blow.

What the fuck was wrong with her? Maybe she had a fever and was internally compromised and therefore mentally weaker?

"It's not that I don't like you- it's that I don't know or trust you." She actually _didn't_ like him but Maeve didn't need to be that honest. "I don't need a partner. Never have. I'm sure Coldwater can reassign you to someone else."

She'd pegged him for a quitter and had made sure his first retrieval experience was… lackluster. He'd stormed off the very moment they'd returned to the office and Maeve had figured that she would never have to see his dumb genetically-blessed face again.

And yet, there he stood.

She didn't appreciate his persistence.

"Look," He paused and narrowed his eyes as if he were calculating. "In all honesty, I went to Coldwater after our first mission and asked to be reassigned."

She'd guessed as much. So why the hell was he still bugging her?

"He refused. It seems, short of either of us quitting, we're just gonna have to be partners."

"Well, there's your solution then." Maeve tried very hard not to eye the drink on her desk like she wanted to actually drink it. "Just quit. It's not like you need to job."

"I'm not quitting." His jaw clenched and Maeve was careful to keep her hands in her lap, near her wand. "Which means we're going to have to figure this out. I think we can both agree that our previous retrieval adventure was pretty… extreme."

"Not really," It had been business as usual. The fact that he thought otherwise was proof that he couldn't hack it.

"Rowle, I had to put you out- from being _on actual fire_\- several times. You could have been badly burned or dead if I wasn't there." He left eyebrow raised and Maeve was struck by the symmetry of his face. Square jawline, high check bones, clear brown eyes, and thick eyebrows- all pretty evenly positioned on his face. Which was obviously the key to his charm. People naturally gravitated to and liked the genetically blessed more easily than those of the asymmetrical variety.

"St. Mungo's has very skilled healers, I've been enough to know that they can fix whatever it is that I do to myself." She basically had a bed in reserve for her. Magical artifact retrieval was a rough business and Maeve could admit that she was, on occasion, a tad reckless. Risking life and limb was just part of the job and she enjoyed her job.

"Okay, well _I_ don't want to almost die every time we go into the field. I don't want you to almost die either. So I need to know what you expect from me when we're doing research and out in the field."

"What?" Not only was he telling her that she couldn't get rid of him but he also wanted to know her expectations? Not one of her previous bodyguards had asked as much.

"I get that you haven't had a reliable partner in a long time- but for this partnership to work, we need to… _communicate_ better." He was using his hands and scrunching his face at certain words he thought she wouldn't like as if trying to be careful of her feelings. "In order for me to protect you in the field, I need to be included in the planning and research of whatever artifact we're going after."

"Zabini, has no one..." What was the right word here? She didn't want to sound like she was bragging but she knew what her coworkers said about her. No one, absolutely no one, wanted to work with her and new hires were warned away from her pretty early on. "warned you about me?"

"They have actually. You've got quite the reputation." He paused to take a sip of his coffee and then continued as if unphased by said reputation. "Last time we did not share the research load and we didn't have a game plan going into it- or at least I wasn't clued into it. Now, I know normally you do all that solo- researching the item and planning the extraction but I will be doing that with you from now on."

Flabbergasted, Maeve could only stare at the symmetrical Slytherin standing on the other side of her desk.

"If you don't mind, I'll take this desk here." He patted the desk he was leaned against and smiled. "What cases are you working on right now and how would you like to divide up the workload?"

Okay.

So.

Maeve was done being nice.

"I'm working on a couple at the moment. My plan for today was to do a bit more research on each and decide which one to go after next." Maeve smiled as nicely as she could and offered up the bulky manilla folders on her desk. He looked hesitant for a moment before he reached for them.

"If you're staying," He wasn't, she'd make sure of it. "Then you should look over them and tell me what you think." She gave no shits what he thought, he'd be gone in a matter of days.

Maeve hadn't been actively trying to get rid of him before. She'd let things happen- hadn't helped nor purposefully hindered his first time out and usually (every fucking time) it drove her partners to quit right off the bat.

"Great, I'm glad we could get that settled." He smiled and Maeve was only like three percent affected by it. She took a moment to mentally bazooka that three percent of herself and smiled brightly at the Slytherin.

"Me too." Not the biggest lie she'd ever told but it was up there. "It might be nice working with a competent partner." Another bald-faced lie but Maeve was good at those. Practice makes perfect.

She watched him settle into the chair behind his new desk and smiled wider.

Blaise Zabini and his immediate extraction from her life was her new assignment. Research and a plan of extraction was all she needed to get the job done and Maeve was the fucking John Wick of research and extraction.


End file.
